


Love and Loss

by IgnisFlos



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Blood, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, its very dark, rita is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnisFlos/pseuds/IgnisFlos
Summary: If only Rita arrived  a couple minutes earlier, she could have saved Tissaia.
Relationships: Margarita Laux-Antille/Tissaia de Vries
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Love and Loss

**Author's Note:**

> hi i wrote this a while ago, it’s very heavy with angst and it’s sad
> 
> i’m adding a trigger warning here because i reference tissaia’s suicide throughout the fic and i describe her body too

Rita felt lost. Empty. Confused, even.

The moment she entered the room and saw Tissaia’s head tilted to the side, her arms bloody and outstretched and her empty eyes staring at the wall, Rita’s legs shook and she nearly dropped to the floor.

Tissaia de Vries was dead. And she has done the deed herself.

Rita inched her way across the room until she came to a stop in front of Tissaia.

There was a knife on the stone floor by Tissaia’s feet; the stone floor that was now red instead of the polished grey it normally was, and her dress—previously a deep ocean blue—now dyed a deep red with blood. Tissaia had drained herself dry. Her once blue eyes now looked dull and almost grey. Her small lips, slightly parted, were now turning a pale blue. If her lips had only just started turning blue and the blood was still wet and dripping, then Tissaia had died not long ago.

Rita was only minutes late. And Tissaia died alone. And there was  _ nothing _ Rita, or anyone, could do to reverse any of this. The deed was done. Tissaia was gone. She couldn’t ask her why she had done it—maybe if Rita had gotten there a couple minutes earlier she could have healed Tissaia to the best of her ability and whisk her away someplace quiet and ask her what the  _ fuck _ she was thinking. Rita only prayed there was an afterlife so she could scream and shout at the woman when she dies.

She stood still and stared at a letter written in neat cursive on the desk. She wouldn’t read it. Not now. Not unless she wanted to smudge the paper and destroy it with tears. Rita would tell everyone and then they could all read the letter together. She tore her eyes away and they landed on one of Tissaia’s arms. Her sleeves were rolled up—neatly of course—and fresh blood was dripping from her hand. Rita didn’t know how long she stood there, but the anger slowly passed into despair.

Gods, it was like someone had stabbed her in the heart five times over. A broken sob finally escaped from Rita’s mouth and she slowly lowered herself to the floor, not caring about sitting in the blood, and rested her head in Tissaia’s lap. There would be no hand brushing it’s fingers through her hair, there would be no voice quietly reading aloud, and there would be no warm cloak covering her once she’s fallen asleep.

Rita would stay here, like this, crying silent tears, until someone else found them.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thank you for reading


End file.
